


Roads Go Ever Ever On

by AgentOklahoma



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Unfulfilled Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:56:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOklahoma/pseuds/AgentOklahoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn't crying.</p><p>No, his face was one of the few in the group that was dry as the ceremony proceeded</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roads Go Ever Ever On

**Author's Note:**

> This is my rendition of the song Bilbo sings (It's originally a poem Bilbo writes but I added some chords and low and behold, its a sad fucking song)  
> http://youremybagginshield.tumblr.com/post/111461830767/a-musical-rendition-of-bilbos-last-poem-from

Roads Go Ever Ever On

**_ BAGGINSHIELD-BAGGINSHIELD-BAGGINSHIELD- BAGGINSHIELD-BAGGINSHIELD- BAGGINSHIELD-BAGGINSHIELD- BAGGINSHIELD-BAGGINSHIELD- BAGGINSHIELD-BAGGINSHIELD-BAGGINSHIELD _ **

He wasn’t crying.

No, his face was one of the few in the group that was dry as the ceremony proceeded, the only others were Dwalin’s and Dis’, although she had as much right to cry as anyone else there. The priest said his final blessings in Khuzdul before asking if anyone wanted to say anything else, looking amongst the tear-streaked faces and only seeing shakes.

“Do you have any traditions in the Shire? For…” Bofur asked quietly, but a few of the company turned to look at their burglar, similar looks all pleading for some sort of comfort.

“We sing. Mourning songs to grieve for the loss. Happy songs to lift everyone’s spirits,” Bilbo replied, not looking away from the pale, motionless bodies in their crypts.

“Could you sing one for us?” Ori piped up before he blew his nose, his wet eyes training on Bilbo, asking silently for some sort of comfort.

“I only know a sad one, I’m afraid,” Bilbo answered with an apologetic smile.

“That would be fine, laddie. If you’re alright with it,” Balin asked. Bilbo nodded minutely, making his way slowly towards the front of the room while the other dwarves watched. The priest gave Bilbo a nod and stepped aside while the hobbit stood by the crypts, his eyes drawn to the king’s body to his left. He was too pale. And his brow wasn’t furrowed in the constantly stressed expression of his. It looked wrong. When Bilbo finally opened his mouth to sing, the words echoed through the tombs and brought Dis to tears.

 _“Roads go ever ever on,_  
Over rock and under tree,  
By caves where never sun has shone,  
By streams that never find the sea;  
Over snow by winter sown,  
And through the merry flowers of June,  
Over grass and over stone,  
And under mountains in the moon.

 _Roads go ever ever on_  
Under cloud and under star,  
Yet feet that wandering have gone  
Turn at last to home afar.  
Eyes that fire and sword have seen  
And horror in the halls of stone  
Look at last on meadows green  
And trees and hills they long have known.”

Bilbo stopped, his voice trailing off, leaving only the echo ringing back to him, relaying those sombre notes and the sorrow that tainted those normally cheerful words back to him. The poem was meant to be one for his trip him after their mission’s success. Bright, cheerful words about how he would finally go home when he’d helped the dwarves reclaim theirs. He made his way down back towards the company, not saying another word for the rest of the funeral.

Nor on his trip home, accompanied by Gandalf, who said filled the silence with inane chatter, trying to help ward off the depression but doing very little to rectify the pained glances whenever they passed a familiar landmark.

“Are you sure you will be alright?” Gandalf asked as Bilbo made his way up the front steps of Bag End. Bilbo turned back, a small smile on his lips as he gave Gandalf a nod of agreement. The wizard only frowned but went on his way, murmuring to the horse pulling the cart while the hobbit leant against his large, green door, letting out the shuddering breath he’d been holding in since they’d left Erebor. It took far too long to get into his house, his hands shaking too much to get the keys in but he managed, dragging his things into the foyer but no further.

Once the door was shut and locked behind him, keeping out those godforsaken neighbours of his that had been staring ever since the cart came up the lane, Bilbo’s knees gave out, dropping him to the floor with a loud thud and a whimper that didn’t come from the pain in his knees.

The sobs came next, the painful sobs that wracked his entire body while he curled in on himself on the cold, dusty wooden floor. They pained cries echoed through the lonely hobbit hole like his song had back in Erebor’s tombs, but this time it was not to mourn the loss of a king and his sister-sons. It was to mourn the family and the love that died when they had.


End file.
